


A Very Payday Christmas

by megahypno



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megahypno/pseuds/megahypno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolf organizes a Secret Santa and Hoxton struggles with finding the perfect gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Secret santa gift for the-foxton on tumblr. Merry Christmas!

“You’ve had more than your fair share of terrible ideas Wolf, but this one honestly takes the cake.”

“This is actually better for you, Hox,” Chains replied jovially, looping a string of lights around the statue of Lady Justice. “Now instead of bitching about how you have to buy everyone a present, you only have to buy one, which leaves you more time for bitching.”

Hoxton slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Why are you participating anyway, Chains? Don’t you celebrate Kwanzaa or something.”

“That’s a cultural holiday, not a religious one. And, are you insinuating I shouldn’t get you anything this year because you’re an atheist?”

“Bite me.”

“Guys, you can’t fight it’s Christmas!” Wolf’s whine echoed off the dingy safehouse walls, prompting a muffled bellow from Dallas from downstairs.

“It’s the 16th,” Hoxton grumbled with an eyeroll.

“Either put your name in the stocking or get your Grinchy ass outta here,” snapped Chains, all humor gone from his voice now. “You’re ruining Wolf’s good mood.”

Hox scowled, shoving a piece of paper into the sock and shooting Wolf an icy glare to rival the chilly morning air seeping into the poorly insulated safehouse. Wolf, like a true Swede, remained wholly unaffected by both.

“Okay,” Wolf tucked the crumpled slip into the stocking and exchanged it for another, this one neatly folded into a perfect square. “And you’re getting a gift for-- Houston!”

There was a remarkable crash as Chains fell off the stepladder he was using to decorate the living room. “Ain’t that about a bitch,” he wheezed between peals of laughter.

“No fucking way! I am not buying anything for that fucking twat. Fuck this, I’m out of your stupid game.” Turning on his heel, Hoxton nearly walked right into Dallas who in turn almost went toppling backwards down the trapdoor stairs.

“Woah, easy Jim. What’s all the commotion about?” He reached out and put a supportive hand on Hoxton’s shoulder, oblivious to the shorter man’s attempts to flinch away.

“Hox got your brother for the Secret Santa,” Chains coughed, still recovering from his fall and subsequent hysterics. “And was just about to go ask you what you think Houston would like for Christmas.”

“I see,” Dallas said skeptically, turning back to Hox who was doing his best to avoid eye contact with his boss at all costs. “Well, in that case I don’t know what to tell you. He’s hard to buy for. What I will say is this,” he drew his hand back, causing Hoxton to look up. “I’m getting real sick of your shit. You’re both acting like petulant children.”

Hoxton opened his mouth to argue, but Dallas put up a hand.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jim! Teamwork is as vital for this job as blueprints and bullets. Don’t buy him anything you wouldn’t get for me, alright?” The implicit ‘or else’ hung in the air like stale cigarette smoke.

Hoxton gave a curt, affirmative nod.

“Good. Alright buddies, remember we’ve got a briefing tonight at 6 so we’re gonna have company. Make sure you’re all wearing pants this time, okay? Wolf?”

Wolf harrumphed loudly and trotted after Dallas, no doubt going to shake him down for his own name to put in the Secret Santa stocking. Chains adjusted his collar, still rumpled from his laughing fit and followed suit, leaving Hoxton alone in the living room looking like he’d just swallowed a lemon.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m not expecting trouble, so we’ll have Houston and Hox on standby as backup.” Bain’s voice crackled to life over the safehouse loudspeakers, snapping Hoxton out of his reverie. Bonnie gave a grunt in reply, arms crossed.

“Ah don’t see why we don’t just hit a bank. Would be easier an’ more profitable than hittin’ a jewelry store,” she grumbled.

“I’m not going to leave families at the mercy of the FDIC right before Christmas,” Bain replied. His voice held no edge, but Bonnie averted her eyes sheepishly anyway, though Hoxton was the only one who saw. Sokol and Houston were both examining the blueprints in front of them, faces twisted in concentration. Hoxton snorted and shook his head. Teachers pets, the both of them.

“Well, if there aren’t any questions I’ll see you all in a week.” Without waiting for a response, they heard the telltale click of the call disconnecting. In truth, Bain would see them on the security cams over the next few days, but pretending like they had a normal working relationship was in everyone’s best interest.  
“Ah need a smoke,” Bonnie announced, low-heel boots clicking loudly on the concrete basement floor. Not about to be left alone with Houston and the baby, Hoxton rushed out after her.

He found her propped up against the brick exterior behind the safehouse, watching snow fall between the slats on the fire escape opposite their building.

“Bum a fag?” he asked, sidling up next to her.

“Ya ever get in trouble for that phrase over here?” Her hand disappeared into her coat pocket as she fished a cigarette out.

“First time Houston heard me say that he near took my head clean off.”

Bonnie laughed, a sharp bark that echoed around the enclosed space between apartments.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’ it just would be him, wouldn’t it?”

Pretending to know what she was talking about was easier than admitting ignorance, so Hoxton chuckled noncommittally.

“Who’d you get for Wolf’s little Christmas game?” He asked conversationally, resting his head against the wall to get a better look at the snow falling gently around them.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her voice was smug, enough to get his attention in full. Bonnie winked and tapped the side of her nose.

“Have your secrets then! I won’t tell you who I got.”

“Oi! I were only joking. I’m buyin’ fer Chains, but don’t tell him, a’right?”

“Cross my heart,” he said, placing a hand on his chest.

“Well go on, who’d you get?”

Hoxton grimaced, postponing answering by taking a long drag off his cigarette. “Houston,” he exhaled bitterly. “And I can’t back out of it, or else Dallas will have my hide.”

“Ouch,” Bonnie said, and Hoxton was surprised to see that she seemed genuinely sympathetic. “Well, maybe it won’t be so bad. What are ye thinkin’ of gettin’ him?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know what he wants.”

“Shite. Well, I’m the wrong person to ask anyway. Ye could try spyin’ on him?”

“What the fuck?”

“Now hear me out,” Bonnie said, dropping her voice conspiratorially, as though the subject of their conversation could walk in on them any moment. “Ye just watch him long enough to see if he needs anything. In this business ye always need one or two things, right?” Seeing the look on Hoxton’s face, Bonnie quit whispering. “Or you could buy him a pair o’ socks and never hear the end of it from Dallas. Your call.” Stubbing her cigarette out against the wall, she turned heel and walked back into the garage.

“Fuck me,” Hoxton lamented, shoving his hands into his pockets.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning of the heist dawned bright and cold enough for the four crew members to see their breath as they unloaded out of the back of the van. They had dressed as low-profile as possible while still trying to keep warm, in coats and leather gloves instead of their usual choice of blue rubber ones. Bain was the only man Hoxton knew who still staged heists in the winter, though if anyone could do it, it would be him.

“C’mon then,” Bonnie clapped a hand on Sokol’s shoulder and the two marched quickly across the street towards the store.

Hoxton leaned back against the van and peered down the street in both directions, scanning for pedestrians and oncoming traffic. This district was mostly small businesses, and none of them appeared to be open the day before Christmas Eve, but it never hurt to be more vigilant than necessary. He hadn’t seen where Houston had gone off to, which was a problem because he still didn’t have anything to get him. So lost in thought was he, that the small rustling noise directly beside him made Hoxton reach for the gun at his hip.

“Christ, you scared the shit out of me,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair reflexively.

“Ah, sorry.” Houston said, glancing at him before placing a cigarette between his lips and fishing in his coat for a lighter.

The coat in question was, Hoxton noted, unusually shabby for Houston’s standards. The man could practically always be counted on to have his suit pressed and shoes shined before a job, but the coat over his shoulders now was fraying at the cuffs and was less sharp black and more faded grey.

Houston furrowed his brow as the lighter in his hand clicked futilely. Rolling his eyes, Hoxton dug into his pocket for his own zippo, flipping it open and offering the light to his struggling crewmate.

Houston turned to look at Hox, eyebrows raised before leaning into the flame somewhat cautiously.

“I didn’t think it got cold enough in Texas to warrant a coat that heavy,” Hoxton said evenly, so as not to arouse suspicion, tucking his lighter away.

“It snows in Texas, I think.”

“You think?”

“I’ve never actually been.”

“But your name is Houston!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

Turning to look at Houston and snap back, Hoxton swallowed his reply when he noticed the smile playing across the taller man’s face.

“But no,” Houston continued, exhaling smoke through his nose into the chilly morning air. “I’ve lived in Chicago all my life.”

“Chicago? Is that where you get your stupid fucking accent?”

“Have you listened to yourself lately?”

Between the insults, Hoxton realized, they had lapsed into… banter? Friendly banter. Houston was still smiling, too. He quashed the odd sensation in his chest down. He had the information he needed.

“Looks like they’re wrapping things up, let’s go-- limpdick.”

 _Well_ , Hoxton thought as he followed Houston towards the store where Bonnie and Sokol were trudging out with bags slung over their shoulders, _the more things change the more they stay the same._


	4. Chapter 4

“*whrr* *click*--Thank you very much! *click*”

“Please, Jacket” Sokol replied happily. “Do not thank me. Is more for my sake, _da_? You can say my name now.”

Jacket smiled at the Russian language learning tapes in his hands and nodded enthusiastically. Houston was watching the exchange with mild interest, waiting patiently for his turn, though it seemed like the rest of the crew hadn’t bothered. The sound of ripping paper and rustling tissue filled the living room as the crew tore into their respective gifts with ravenous glee. It was easy to forget that most of the people in this room had done hard time, Houston mused as he watched Clover squeal with delight at having received a new bottle of hair dye.

He looked down at the sizable box in his hands and decided that waiting was pointless if no one else was going to be patient. Whoever had gotten him a gift hadn’t bothered to wrap it, but had simply taped both sides of the white box shut. Sliding a thumb under the tape, he wiggled it loose as best he could, trying to avoid tearing the cardboard with limited success.

He lifted the lid off, expecting a scarf or something simple. Inside, however, was a mass of durable black fabric. Curious, he reached in and began to unfold it. A coat, he realized as he pulled it into his lap. A nice coat.

The outside was rough and thick, meant to cut the wind easily but the material inside was comfortably soft. He admired the sleek black buttons on the front, impressed.

“Thank you for the coat,” he called over the din, lifting it up to show anyone who happened to look over. No one did. He slid an arm into it to check that it was the right size, and felt something heavy fall against his leg. Looking down, he saw what had fallen out of the breast pocket.

A brand new, gold zippo lighter.


End file.
